


Theoretical

by museaway



Category: Smallville
Genre: (Technically underage because Clark is 16), (even though he's an alien), Angst, Drama, First Kiss, M/M, Romance, happy!Clex, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-08
Updated: 2003-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are worth the risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theoretical

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vera_DragonMuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/gifts).



> For Veronica. This was the first Clex story I ever wrote, prompted by a good friend. It's...probably in need of updating, but ah, well.

Night has fallen and everything is still, still, still. Stars are blinking in and out of the sky with passing wisps of clouds, and a slight breeze causes a chill in the otherwise unmoving air. The last fragments of summer, frayed and soft, and Clark is crying.

Not uncontrollable sobbing, just quiet tears slipping down his face as he stares up at the moon.

Didn't he love her? Hadn't he loved her for eleven years, each crystallizing the emotions until his hands overflowed with them?

Then why had he chosen to end it? Why had he told her everything would be better this way?

She didn't go with him to Metropolis. Didn't get on the bike when he asked her. A part of him had thought she would. Even under the influence of that ring, he'd thought that maybe she'd think about them for once, about this life he'd always seen for the two of them. Living together on his parents' farm, children of their own climbing among the haybales and staring off into the stars. Laughter and music until late in the night, and Lana waiting for him every time he walked into the house.

Why had it changed? What had gone so wrong this summer that he didn't want that anymore? Didn't want her?

He still dreamed about her. But he dreamed about someone else, too: someone who had been just as important in his life, maybe even more so; the one person he could talk to about almost anything, who didn't patronize him; the person who wanted to make a good impression on his parents, who asked to be considered part of the family, who asked Clark's parents to stand in as his own at his wedding; who came to the Kent farm first when his father ordered him out of the house; the person who trusted him, who told him stories about the Greeks and the Romans, mythology and legend -- stories from his childhood, stories that Clark clung to like falling stars, afraid they might extinguish if he didn't capture them between his palms and keep them safe; someone who watched out for him, who showed up uninvited whenever he pleased, never being bothered to use the telephone; the person whose death shook Clark to the absolute center of his soul.

Newspaper forgotten on the floor, front page crumpled in his hands, Clark knew a part of himself had died as well. Even with the ring on his hand, he felt the weight of the loss, the horrible twisting in his stomach, the burning in his eyes as he fell to his knees and let the pages of the newspaper flutter to the wooden floor, unable to suck in any air.

He still isn't sure how he survived the funeral. Perhaps it was the fear of being seen by his family or friends that kept his eyes dry, back straight, hands thrust in his pockets while he leaned against the cold stone pillar. Perhaps it was denial that Lex was really gone.

Perhaps it was guilt for never having said all the things he should've.

When Lex came back, when Clark held him in his arms and pressed his face into Lex's neck, he felt as though he'd been handed a second chance, which is why he ended things with Lana.

Only, he hadn't expected to hurt so much afterwards.

And he isn't sure if the hurt comes from losing his childhood fairytale or the fear of reaching for the one sitting a shelf higher.

.

Eyes swimming, he doesn't see the stars, doesn't feel the breeze, doesn't hear footsteps the tapping up the staircase and into the loft. Barely feels the surface of the sofa give when someone sits next to him, flinches when a hand comes to rest upon his shoulder and a voice asks, "Clark? What is it?"

"Lex," he says, and his voice is strained and thin.

(why is he here? whywhywhy?)

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"D'you want to talk about it?" Lex offers, and for some reason, Clark sighs, leans over and rests his head on Lex's shoulder, and Lex stiffens because he's not expecting this but something tells him this is what Clark needs right now.

And maybe he shouldn't be glad about that, but for some reason, he is; maybe because he wants to be the one to make whatever this is go away.

He doesn't have a word for this feeling he has for Clark, doesn't have a fucking clue what this is except that he wants it and needs it and hates it all at the same time, some sort of sick pleasure like watching yourself bleed and lapping at the blood before it pools in the curve of your elbow, marveling at the bitter metallic salty wet.

(is this love?)

Only twenty-two. Only twenty-fucking-two years old, and Clark sixteen.

He can't have that, won't allow himself the luxury. When you don't care about anyone, there's no responsibility. No repercussions. No heartache when it's over, when they die, the way people always die.

But goddamnit, Lex thinks, get over this girl; this stupid, stupid girl. She doesn't know you, Clark. Not the way I know you. We, you and I, we're going to be the stuff of legends. Our destinies bound to a single fate. Why can't you see that?

Clark's hair tickling his cheek, he turns his head. Skin beneath his lips and he's pressing. Comfort. Healing. The ways he wishes he could but can't on any other day, any day other than this. Because it's okay, right now. It's allowed, like this. Because Clark's crying and hurt, and this is what friends do.

This is what friends do.

For just a moment, this is what he does.

Face brushing against face, whispered words into Clark's ear, lips meeting his forehead, and Clark sits up and wipes his eyes and pushes away. He balls his hands into fists and releases them again, a look of intense concentration on his face as he wills his emotions to a hold.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Lex finally asks.

"It's over. With Lana," Clark tells him, and a part of Lex sinks at the mention of the name.

"Clark, I'm sorry," he says, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "Did she say it's permanent?"

Clark shakes his head. "No. I mean, I'm the one who ended it."

Lex frowns. "I don't understand."

"I broke it off."

"Perhaps I'm missing something. If you broke it off, why are you so torn up about it?" Braces his head with an arm propped on the back of the couch.

"I don't know," Clark moans and rubs his forehead. "Because she looked so sad, I guess. Because. Lex, I've loved Lana since I was five. And losing that, even though it's my decision, it-- " he doesn't finish.

"Maybe you should go and talk with her about it. Maybe you made a mistake."

Clark shakes his head again. "No."

Lex takes a deep breath and lets it out, keeping his eyes on the back of Clark's neck. "Then it sounds like you just need some time to let it sink in."

"I just don't understand," Clark said, raising his head and dropping his hands to his lap. "I love her. But as a friend. And when we were together, it didn't feel right. Y'know? Like, when you kiss someone and you don't really feel anything? I mean, you think you do, but when you think back on it later, there wasn't anything? And you'd really rather just be back home looking at the stars than be with that person."

Lex nodded. "I think I follow you."

"But now that it's over, it's like, what am I throwing away? She's everything I've ever wanted since I can remember; why isn't that enough?"

Lex reaches a hand out and rubs Clark's back.

"Sorry," Clark apologizes for his outbursts but leaning back slightly into Lex's touch.

"Clark, it's okay to be upset," Lex says. "Even Achilles cried when he lost Patroclus."

"Who?"

"Achilles. A Greek myth. He was the son of a goddess, Thetis, and to make him immortal, she dipped him in the River Styx, its water protecting him from any harm in battle. Patroclus wasappointed as a squire to Achilles, and as time passed, they became great friends and eventually lovers. Achilles used to pray that the surrounding world would be destroyed, leaving only Patroclus and himself."

Clark's eyes widen.

Lex smiles. "Don't be so surprised, Clark. It was an accepted societal practice."

Clark blinks and is quiet.

"When war broke out over Helen of Troy, Patroclus went off to fight for her. He died in battle, wearing Achilles' armor; and when Achilles was told, he fell to the ground and cried. He refused to let Patroclus be buried, instead lying on top of his body and holding him. He later died avenging his death."

"I thought you said he was immortal."

"When his mother dipped him into the river, she forgot to cover the places under her fingertips. You've heard of an Achilles' heel?"

Clark nods.

"The man who killed Patroclus had a younger brother, Paris, who struck Achilles in the heel with a poisoned arrow. He died, and his ashes were mixed with those of Patroclus in a golden urn, and they were entombed together for all time."

Clark blinks. "I guess that's kind of a happy ending."

Lex shrugs. "Depends on your definition of happy."

They are quiet for a moment.

"Lex?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you think that's weird? For two guys to be in love?"

"I don't think its any stranger than my being in love with Helen or your being in love with Lana."

Clark winces.

"I'm sorry," Lex continues quickly, realizing his error. "No, I don't think it's weird, as you put it."

"So, you know people who..." Clark stumbles over his words, but Lex understands well enough to continue.

"In Metropolis, I have acquaintances who are in relationships with other men. And I saw a lot of that in college, as well."

"And it didn't bother you?"

"Should it bother me?"

"No. I guess. But. I mean. Have you ever...y'know."

"Have I ever been with a man?"

Clark's cheeks are reddening. "...yeah."

"I would be lying if I said 'no.' "

Clark's eyes widen, and he seems to shrink into himself. "Oh."

"A few times in college. Some lasted a while; others didn't." Clark doesn't seem entirely horrified, so Lex continues. "The last time was in Metropolis, about three years ago. I ended up in the back room of a club with a guy I hardly knew. It lasted for fifteen minutes; then it was over."

Clark swallows hard. "And now?"

"Now I'm in a bad streak with women."

"Oh. So you're not...I mean. You're not gay."

"My last name is enough of a label for me, Clark. I don't need another one."

"Okay."

"You look disappointed," Lex says. "You weren't planning to hit on me, were you?" He laughs and hopes it comes off like a joke.

Clark stiffens and blinks and turns his face away. Image materializing on the screen, and Lex recognizes the look on Clark's face. The resolution becomes fine-tuned, and Lex suddenly understands.

"Oh," he says, his voice higher than usual. Disbelief. Disbelief and hope and (oh, is this really happening?)

"It's late. I should get to bed," Clark says, a frown in his voice.

"Clark?" Clark doesn't answer, and Lex moves closer and touches his arm.

His face hidden, Clark says, "Don't," and stands, shoving Lex away.

Lex hesitates. "We should talk about this."

"I don't want to talk about it," Clark snaps and steps away from him, toward the window.

Lex is still sitting on the couch, hands folded on his lap. "Okay," he says, because he knows if he pushes, Clark might never want to talk to him again.

Clark stares out at the sky, stars dotting it as it stretches to the horizon. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut, not asked Lex to expound on mythology and relationships?

And he can't imagine someone only giving Lex fifteen minutes. Bastard.

Lex cannot remember a time when he has been more uncomfortable. What can he say? Is there anything at all that could absolve Clark of this...this _guilt_? This constant responsibility he seems to feel for everything? Pressing his back deeper into the cushions, Lex decides upon, "I have to say, I'm flattered." Always better to play superior rather than vulnerable. And Lex isn't about to presume that Clark ever inteded for anything serious to actually happen. Better to blow it off.

Clark snorts. "Thanks."

"And this is why you broke up with Lana?"

The silhouette shrugs. "I guess."

"Were you planning on telling me this?"

"Not exactly."

He stands and tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I thought we were friends, Clark."

"We are friends."

"The last time I checked, friends trust each other. Even with something like this."

"To tell you the truth, I'm still trying to figure it out for myself."

Lex is standing at his side, now. "I see."

"And it's not the kind of thing you just talk about."

"Alright."

"Because, what if it's. I mean, what if it's just..."

"A phase?"

"Yeah. A theory. I don't know if it's anything else."

"Well, you never know until you take a chance."

"I guess."

"Clark."

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes, the results are worth the risk."

Clark turns to him in the shadows and stares. "What're you saying?"

"I think you know what I'm saying."

"Wait. So. You." Lex patiently raises an eyebrow, hoping to coax Clark into sentence completion. "You. You don't mind?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Clark bites at his lip and considers this. "I dunno, Lex. This is kinda...weird."

"You seem to like that word tonight."

Clark blushes.

"Look. I'm not trying to force anything on you, I'm just saying that if you want to test this...theory of yours, I'm open to it."

A nod.

"And I understand that it's just for science sake."

"Lex --" he raises his voice in protest.

"Clark, believe me, it's all right."

(just do it, please. just once. just to show what it would've been)

"No, I mean, that's not fair."

"What isn't?"

"Doing it like this."

"I'm trying to help. Isn't that what friends do?"

"No, don't you understand? I don't want to kiss you if it isn't going to mean anything." He stops and closes his eyes. "I only want to kiss you if you want me to."

A challenge.

Lex turns his head to look out the window. "I don't have time for relationships, Clark. I realized that after the last failed attempt at one. I'm not exactly the best judge of character where emotions come into play. When I was on that island, I got a new perspective on life: that it's not about friendship and love but about what you can leave behind, about legacy."

"No, it's not," Clark disagrees.

"What?"

"It is about love. And friendship. And relationships and everything, because that's part of what we leave behind when we die."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Why don't you let me decide for myself what's gonna hurt me?

"You're too young."

"I'm sixteen! Quit making excuses. Just tell me if you want this or not. That's the only thing that matters."

"Your parents would never accept it."

"Lex--"

"My father would never allow it."

"Lex, please stop!"

"You might change your mind afterwards."

"No, I won't!" His voice cracks.

Lex pauses. "Why so certain, all of a sudden?"

Clark's lips are trembling, and his eyes sting.

Lex sighs, touches Clark's shoulder. "I'm going to go. And when you have this figured out, get back to me, okay? Goodnight, Clark." Fingers lingering on Clark's upper arm, trailing his hand behind him like a comet's tail.

Two steps, three, four, and isn't Clark supposed to be coming after him? Clark's watching him walk away, forlorn and rejected in the moonlight. Five, six, and there's nothing, and maybe he's done something wrong, discouraged him completely when he only meant to force Clark to dissolve any reason why this shouldn't happen. Seven, eight, steps descending, stomach dropping, Lex retreating to his brandy bottle because he's too scared to take his own advice. Soft earth beneath his feet, and his shoes are dust-covered as he pushes out of the barn and into the night air. Cold keys in his hand, directed at the lock, handle beneath his fingers, breeze on his cheek, a hand at his waist and warm lips pressing against his.

(oh. this is what it feels like.)

This is Clark. This is the warm, sweet flavor he remembers from the riverside, waking up to the face of god hovering above him, green eyes flashing impossibly bright and worried. This is Clark pressed against him now, Clark licking at his mouth, Clark making tiny noises in the back of his throat.

Clark.

These are Clark's arms wrapped around him now that it's over, Clark's face against his neck, Clark's breath blowing across his skin.

All of it. This is Clark.

(yes, but this is love, too.)

"Changed your mind?" Lex asks once his ability to speak returns.

"I realized what you were doing."

"You know me too well."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I guess not."

"You've really gotta stop playing the mind games," Clark whispers against his cheek.

"But they're effective," Lex defends, grinning, the car cool against his back.

"So," Clark begins.

"So?"

"What do you think? I mean, now that..."

"I think I should go home," Lex says. He feels Clark stiffen against him.

"...oh."

"And I think you should come with me."

A laugh. A laugh and arms tighter than before.

The cold is pushed from between them once more, heat and pressure on his mouth, wet, voice in his ear, hands dropping reluctantly, and then Lex is left with his lips tingling and Clark beside him in the car as he drives home along the dirt roads, mind surging with anticipation and hope.

(thank you, oh, finally, thank you.)


End file.
